


Leave it to Strider

by mintboy (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 1950s Slang, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Diners, Fluff, Greasers, Humanstuck, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mintboy
Summary: It's 1956, and Speedy's Diner is the place to be in town. The greasers head inside for shakes and colas, and Dave meets the charming new counter attendant - and, naturally, he accidentally takes him on a date.Glossary of slang terms is in end notes.





	Leave it to Strider

It was as if the whole town seemed to revolve around Speedy’s Diner – for the teenagers, anyway. Restricted with the tight ropes of post-war fear wrapped around their wrists and ankles by their parents and schools, they were just itching for the good time they couldn’t get anywhere else; especially at home, holed up in front of radios and in piles of homework.

And so, Speedy’s became the place where _everyone_ went – the squares, the freams, the beats, the greasers. It was always crowded after school was out, right until it closed its doors for the night, and even then, there was usually a throng of kids outside for the next hour or so.

Dave took a drag of his cigarette, leaning against the hood of a red and white Chevy. It wasn’t his; he wasn’t a hot-rodder because he couldn’t afford it. He mixed with the crowd, though, and he was fond of the Chevy, though it broke down enough that he’d probably spent more time pushing it than riding in it with his friends. One of them had souped it up, and it hadn’t really been the same since. It went a lot faster, for sure, but Dave wasn’t really convinced that it had been worth it in the end.

A radio sat on the roof of the car, blasting the latest Elvis Presley. Greasers crowded the line of hot-rods, laughing and smoking.

Someone hollered over the music about the crowd of girls at the soda bar, though he was quickly met with a barrage of voices letting him know that their girlfriends – who were inside getting shakes – were thoroughly jacketed. A wave of laughs followed, the guy being elbowed into the side of the Chevy. Dave shook his head, taking another drag of his cigarette.

The door to the diner swung open, the man who owned the establishment stepping outside. Though they called him Speedy, his name was actually something rather uninteresting and generic. And, though he catered to the dozens of teens that hung around the place, he was still just as wary of their ‘culture’ as anyone else his age. Dave’s type especially wasn’t exactly seen in a positive light.

A couple of them glanced over, and Dave adjusted his leather jacket, his eyes darting over from behind his shades.

“You all can’t sit out here without buying something,” Speedy announced over the music, “blasting this garbage – you know it’s banned in school for a reason.”

He was met with a chorus of groans and complaints.

“Look, just buy a cola or something. If you stay out here, I’ll call the police,” he added with a glare, before ducking back into the diner. Someone reached up, shutting off the radio, and a couple engines roared. Some of the hot-rodder types preferred to re-locate as some kind of rebellious act, though quite a few of the greasers didn’t have anywhere else to go. Dave extinguished his cigarette under his shoe, following five or six of the others inside the diner.

It was crowded inside, and the chatter of the people drinking soda and eating sandwiches was mingling with the Andrews Sisters blasting on the jukebox.

Dave dodged a waitress carrying burgers as he ducked inside, making his way to the counter. He slid into one of the seats, fixing his slicked back hair as he did so. The counter attendant made his way over – and Dave had to pause, as he’d been expecting to look up and see Speedy looking back at him.

The attendant was cladded in the same outfit Speedy wore – the blue button-up and apron, the little paper cap – but was much younger, probably Dave’s age. His hair was thick and mussed, and he was … a good-looking guy. Blinking, Dave shot back to the moment.

The guy was looking at him expectantly, and Dave raised an eyebrow.

“Come again, clyde?”

“I said,” the attendant scowled, “can I get you anything?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dave glanced up at the menu and stuck his hand into his jacket pocket to see how much change he had on him. After a second, he continued with a grin, “could I get a shake and a cut of pie?”

The attendant nodded, shouting over to the kitchen for someone to grab him an eve with a lid, before turning to get the shake. Dave pulled a few dimes and nickels out of his pocket, counting out forty cents and dropping them on the counter. The attendant quickly slid the shake onto the counter, grabbing the change and walking over to the register.

Dave let his eyes linger on him as he walked, before swallowing and glancing behind him. His friends were busily chatting up the girls by the jukebox. He turned back to look at the attendant, who was serving another kid a cola. Dave took a sip of his shake. It was so sweet his throat burned, and he clicked his tongue.

The attendant grabbed a rag, done with serving drinks for now, and Dave tapped the counter to get his attention.

“I know you ordered a cut of pie,” the attendant said, clearly exasperated, “it’s coming.”

“Woah,” Dave raised his hands up, “not trying to rattle your cage, promise. I just wanted to ask your name.”

The guy raised an eyebrow, pointing at his name tag.

“You know, you’d probably have read it if you didn’t wear sunglasses _inside_ ,” he snapped.

Dave did have to squint to see the cursive ‘Karkat’ on the name tag, but he shrugged off the comment with a little laugh. The guy, Karkat, rolled his eyes, which Dave just now noticed were a very pleasant color. There was a second of unoccupied quiet between them, which was somewhat painful despite the hustle and bustle around them. Dave coughed, tracing a pattern in the condensation that had dripped off of his glass and onto the counter.

“… You’re some kind of hot-rodder?” Karkat asked, and Dave looked up. Karkat was cleaning a glass.

“Not really,” Dave shrugged, “the chariots they have are really swell, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t really have the funds for that kind of style.”

Karkat nodded. His eyes darted upward to Dave’s hair, following the way it melted backwards from the product, despite the few strands that fell forward onto his forehead.

“So, you’re just a greaser,” he said flatly.

“Guess so,” Dave replied, before quickly adding, “but I’m no fream, I get on with the guys.”

Karkat rolled his eyes, “you don’t need to gas yourself up.”

Someone else moved up to the counter, and Karkat went to go tend to them. In the meantime, one of the cooks delivered Dave’s pie. He watched as Karkat made a shake for the girl at the end of the counter – when he glanced over at her, she smiled at him. He recognized her from somewhere, probably one of the classes he didn’t frequent.

Even after he looked away, he could feel her eyes on him. It made him feel a little weird. He was never really fond of girls’ attention – they were nice and all, but he preferred the company of his friends, who were mostly other guys.

Once she was happily sipping on her strawberry milkshake and was thoroughly distracted by a friend, Dave was pleased to find Karkat was, for the moment, unoccupied.

“Hey, Kat, clyde,” he called. Karkat turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

“When’s your shift over?” Dave asked, sucking a bit of vanilla milkshake off of his pointer finger. Karkat glanced at the clock.

“Half an hour. Why?” He looked a little confused, in a sort of intrigued way. Dave didn’t really see why he would feel like that; it was pretty clear he was going to ask if they could hang out. He seemed a little square, but he was pretty hep as far as Dave could tell.

Dave shrugged.

“I thought maybe we could do something.”

Karkat paused on the glass he was cleaning, his brow furrowing for a moment. His expression was almost calculating. Dave took the second to trace his gaze across the beauty marks on his face.

“… Okay,” Karkat answered, finally, “if you’re alright with waiting.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dave dug his straw in the bottom of his milkshake, sucking up the last of the melted ice-cream. He dipped the glass, plucking out the cherry and sticking it into his mouth. It was very artificially sweet – the way he liked it. The cherries were his favorite.

Karkat reached over, pulling the glass from his hand.

“I didn’t –” Dave started, but Karkat interrupted him.

“It’s on me,” he said, going to fill the glass again. He slid it in front of Dave, before sticking two cherries on the top, “you seemed to like these, god knows why, they’re disgusting,” he added, offering a little smile. It was a little crook of his lip upward on one side, and Dave’s chest suddenly felt a little lighter.

“Thanks,” he replied, and his voice shook a little. He looked down, trying to reason with himself about what the hell was going on inside his body. After all, Karkat was another _guy,_ so there was no way this was some … lovey-dovey, fluttery feeling. After all, he’d never really felt that before, not in the way his friends described when talking about their girlfriends.

Which was something he’d never had. A girlfriend, that is.

He was definitely overthinking it, he decided, and took a sip of his milkshake, his eyes falling on Karkat, who was looking at him from the register.

The half hour went pretty fast. One of Dave’s friends had come to the counter, and the two of them had some friendly banter about the latest Ray Charles – he offered to Dave that maybe they could throw a little dance in his father’s barn later, put the record on.

The dances the greasers threw were popular – there weren’t many school dances, because the kids their age had taken to dancing in ‘inappropriate’ ways according to the school administrators and teachers. Besides, all the music they played at the dances wasn’t exactly hip. A real bash was a party thrown by the greasers – they broke out all the new rock n’ roll, the songs that surely would give their parents heart-attacks with all the talk of love and rebellion. The barn was a good place for a dance because it was in the middle of nowhere in comparison to the rest of town, so it wasn’t likely to be crashed by the police.

Dave liked the dances, but he’d always hung off to the side. He got a fair number of girls asking him to dance, but he just didn’t really see the appeal. Though, now that he thought about it, he wouldn’t mind dancing with Karkat. Not that he would. That would probably be kind of weird. Guys didn’t really dance with other guys.

Eventually, his friend decided to invite the entirety of the diner to his dance that weekend, and hopped off to go try and get the girls at the jukebox to join – it wasn’t just greasers who were invited after all. It was the whole school, typically, and the more people that knew, the quicker it spread around – meaning it would be a _real_ bash.

Dave tapped his fingers on the counter, his eyes on the clock. Half an hour had more or less slid by. Once he finished serving the last shake of his shift, Karkat made his way back over to where Dave was seated, playing with his straw.

“I’ve just got to change,” Karkat said, “and then I’ll meet you outside?”

Dave nodded, getting up out of his seat. His friends glanced over as he stood, and he offered a little salute before heading outside. Luckily, they just turned back the crowd, laughing away as they chatted about the upcoming dance.

When the door swung shut behind him, Dave pulled out a cigarette and lit it, leaning against the outer wall of the diner. He could’ve smoked inside, but it was uncomfortable in such a big crowd, and probably would’ve ruined the taste of his milkshake.

He took a drag, his eyes on the door as he waited for Karkat to emerge.

“Ready?”

“Jeez!” Dave jumped, turning around, and Karkat covered his mouth, laughing. It was … a really nice sound. Once he caught his breath, Dave got a second to actually see Karkat in real clothes, in front of him and not behind the counter.

He was wearing a sweater and some slacks, and they fell on him well. His hair was somehow even more fluffy and mussed without the little paper cap. Dave coughed, averting his eyes. He assured himself that he was just jealous; he wished he could look like that, probably.

“Let’s cut out,” Dave nodded in the direction of the parking lot, starting to walk.

“Where? Also – wait, didn’t you say you don’t have a car?” Karkat moved to catch up with him, and Dave laughed in a sort of falsely dismissive way, air shooting out of his nose noiselessly.

“I might not be a hot-rodder, clyde, but I’m no square,” he replied, stopping in front of a motorcycle. It was well kept, and it was Dave’s prized possession. As someone who couldn’t get his hands on a car and who had spent most of his time on a beat up, regular bike, he’d saved up everything he had to get this motorcycle.

It was the BSA Golden Flash, and it was beautiful. The gold paint flashed in the sunlight, and it was _fast_. Dave loved it to pieces, and cleaned and waxed it so often his friends picked on him for it.

He turned from the Flash to Karkat with a grin.

“No way,” Karkat scowled, “’snails – I’m not riding that thing.”

“It’s safe!” Dave nudged Karkat on the arm, “c’mon, we can go see a flick. On me. Besides, then you can say you’ve ridden one. It’s a Flash!”

Karkat sighed, pressing a couple fingers to his forehead. Dave looked at him hopefully, and he wasn’t sure why he cared so much. They’d just met, but he could feel so much hope in his eyes that he was almost sure you’d be able to see it from behind his sunglasses. He guessed he just … really wanted to be Karkat’s friend, and really wanted to impress him?

“… Fine, fine,” Karkat waved his hands in defeat, “but don’t go … too fast.”

“Hep, yeah,” Dave smiled, hopping on the bike and patting what was left of the seat behind him, “hop on. Just hold onto me and you’ll be just fine.”

Karkat slowly slid onto the bike, settling and wrapping his arms around Dave’s waist. Dave felt his face heat up a little, and shifted to get more comfortable.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I guess,” Karkat replied, and Dave felt something pull in his chest at the nerves in his voice. He started up the bike and felt the arms around him tighten. They kicked up the gravel as they left, and Dave sped down the little roads with precision to the theatre. He felt Karkat press his cheek against his back.

He pulled to a halt outside the back of the theatre.

“Are you alright, Kat?” he asked, turning back to glance at Karkat, who slowly retracted his tense arms from around Dave’s waist.

“…Yeah,” he said with a deep breath, “that was … actually pretty fun.”

Dave grinned, hopping off the bike and helping Karkat down. He pushed the bike behind a dumpster. There was a black tarp back there, and he threw it over the Flash, before turning back to Karkat.

“Why the heck would you do that?” Karkat asked, crossing his arms.

“I said the flick would be on me, but there’s no way I’m paying forty-six cents each for it. We’ll just go in from the back.”

“You want us to _sneak in_? Are you crazy? What if we get caught?”

“C’mon, daddy-o, don’t get all frosted on me. It’s just a movie. I sneak in every time, nothing ever happens. Besides, they’re showing _Bus Stop_ now. That’s got Marilyn Monroe in it!”

Dave wouldn’t admit it, but he was more interested in seeing it for Don Murray, but his friends seemed really excited to see Monroe, so that was the argument he chose.

“…Ugh, fine,” Karkat caved, “it’s an off hour anyway, I guess.”

“Right! We’ll probably be the only ones in there,” Dave grabbed Karkat’s hand, shushing him, and pulled him up to the back door to one of the theatres. He pushed it open, and the movie was just started. None of the ushers were in there, and there was just a couple of people seated up in the front row. He slid inside, pulling Karkat in with him. The door shut quietly behind them.

They made their way up to the back row, and Dave suddenly realized he was still holding Karkat’s hand. He felt all the blood rush to his face – but didn’t want to let go. Karkat’s hand was nice to hold. It was warm.

He did let go when they sat down, however, and he felt a little disappointment rush through him. He ushered it away.

He redirected his attention the movie, sliding down in his seat a little to get more comfortable. A little while passed of the two of them sitting beside each other, before he felt something snake behind his shoulders.

He glanced over to see Karkat looking at him, his arm clearly extended to wrap around Dave’s back. Dave had seen this move before – he’d seen his friends do it on their girlfriends at the theatre all the time. But he – he was a guy. Karkat was _another guy_. It was hard to see Karkat’s expression from behind his shades, since it was so dark, but when a particularly bright scene came on, he could see something soft in Karkat’s eyes. He really did have very nice eyes.

Karkat leaned in and Dave wasn’t sure how to react.

“Can I kiss you?” Karkat muttered in his ear. The hand on his shoulder traced a pattern into his jacket. Dave felt a little rush in his chest, and nodded.

Karkat lifted another hand and used it to pull Dave into a kiss by the chin. Dave felt like his brain was melting, and it was the best feeling in the world. He relaxed into the kiss, and the two of them broke apart for air after an amount of time Dave wasn’t even sure of. There was something in the back of his head about the fact Karkat was another _guy_ , but it felt so insignificant when Karkat pulled him in for another kiss.

Dave didn’t really get a chance to watch the movie.

The two of them spent the rest of the time making out in the back of the theatre, up until the lights came back on, and they were forced to fix their disheveled hair and stand up to scram before the ushers came back. They slid back outside through the back door and into the parking lot in the rear of the building. Dave felt weak in the knees and like his heart was flying. Every time he looked at Karkat, something in his head felt like the interior of a fish-tank.

He rubbed the back of his neck when Karkat turned to him.

“So, I, uh,” he stuttered, coughing.

“God,” Karkat rolled his eyes, “what?”

“We should … do this again,” Dave finally managed to get out, looking down.

“I would hope we would,” Karkat replied, leaning up to peck Dave on the lips one more time. As he pulled away, Dave followed him for a second, a little disappointed it ended so fast.

“They’re, uh, hm,” god, why was it so hard to find words? Dave coughed, rubbing his face. His cheeks were so hot, “there’s a dance in the barn on Saturday. Do you … wanna come?”

Karkat laughed, rolling his eyes again, “you’re so pathetic,” he reached out and took Dave by the hand, “of course I’ll come, idiot.”

When the two of them finally parted ways after a few more kisses and a hell of a lot more poorly articulated sentences on his part, Dave found he couldn’t stop grinning. He wasn’t sure where this was going to go – with everything the way it was – but he couldn’t help but be excited. From the ride to hang with the greasers on the Flash to the moment he fell asleep that night, Karkat was the only thing on his mind … and he decided he was more than okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary & Notes - 1950's Slang (In order by first use of word)
> 
> Squares - normal people, typically seen as boring  
> Freams - people who don't fit in  
> Beats - short for "beatniks"; a culture of 1950's writers  
> Greasers - teens who wore a lot of "grease" in their hair, typically seen as troublemakers  
> Hot-Rodder - someone who buys and races in fast, modified cars  
> Souped Up - a car that is heavily modified to go faster  
> Jacketed - older version of "cuffed"; in a steady relationship  
> Clyde - form of address, like "dude"  
> Eve with a Lid - apple pie (diner slang; still in use)  
> Rattle your Cage - upset you  
> Chariot - car  
> Hep - cool  
> Bash - a good party or dance  
> Cut Out - leave  
> 'Snails - shortened way of saying "God's nails"; typical profanity of pre-1970's, as many curse words used today were not in heavy use until then.  
> Flick - movie  
> Daddy-o - form of address used mostly by greasers and hot-rodders  
> Frosted - angry


End file.
